


Star Wars x Newsies

by eternalahsoka



Series: Star Wars x Newsies [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:20:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24312649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternalahsoka/pseuds/eternalahsoka
Summary: A crossover fic between Star Wars (Clone Wars/Prequel era) and Newsies (the broadway version). The curtain rises, and Anakin Skywalker and his half-brother Owen Lars begin a new day as newsies on Tatooine.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker/Ahsoka Tano, CT-7567 | Rex/Anakin Skywalker, CT-7567| Rex/Anakin Skywalker/Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Owen Lars & Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Series: Star Wars x Newsies [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1755136
Comments: 7
Kudos: 5





	1. Santa Fe (Prologue)

Anakin always awoke long before either of Tatooine’s suns had risen, but this morning felt special. From his rooftop pile of pillows - the closest thing he or Owen had to a home - he could see dawn on the horizon, the thin line of yellow and orange slowly changing the sands from their nighttime hue of brown to a morning gold. He rarely thought his desert planet a beauty, but at this moment, it seemed to be giving him a rare gift. It was all his, too, for Mos Espa was still asleep, and so was Owen.

“Wake up, Owen!” He shook his cousin by the shoulder, perhaps with a little more force than he should’ve. He was just ... strangely excited.

Owen grumbled. “Five more minutes,” he pleaded.

“We gotta get movin’ if we’s gonna sell enough papes to pay for dinner,” Anakin began to button up his blue linen shirt - the one he was convinced matched his eyes and helped him win over female customers.

“Just once,” Owen mused, “I’d like to hear somethin’ nice from the person tryin’ to wake me up. Somethin’ like ‘Hey, Owen, you’s won the lottery! You’s gonna be rich!’ or just ‘Today we’ll take the day off, old pal.’”

Anakin smiled, but his insides churned as he watched Owen scoot himself up onto his crutch. His cousin’s leg had been injured five years before in a traffic accident; some crazy speeder driver had been going too fast down a Mos Espa road. Ever since, he’d tried to make life easier for Owen, but it seemed an impossible feat. Life in the outer rim was hard enough, but as a poor, fatherless, hungry newsie - you could forget it.

“Hey, hey - you wanna hear somethin’ nice? I’ll tell ya somethin’ nice!” He thought for a moment. “Is a story okay?”

Owen nodded, fervently.

“Okay. Far, far away from Tatooine - far beyond the Outer Rim, for that matter - lies a planet named Santa Fe.”

“Santa Fe?” Owen snorted. “What a stupid name.”

“Oh, like Tatooine’s the best name ya ever heard,” Anakin scoffed. “Let me finish. In Santa Fe, there ain’t a single grain of sand - not one. It’s clean, and green, and pretty, and they went and made a city out of clay.”

“Sounds like Mos Espa, just green.”

“That’s the important part, Owen. And the minute that ya get there, folks’ll walk right up and say: ‘Welcome home, son, welcome home to Santa Fe!’” He threw up his arms and shouted into the morning breeze. “Plantin’ crops! Splittin’ rails! Swappin’ tales around the fire, ‘cept for Sunday when ya lie around all day! Soon your friends are more like family, and they’s beggin’ you to stay! Ain’t that neat? Livin’ sweet. In Santa Fe.”

“Where’d ya hear about this planet anyway?” Owen wondered. “How d’ya know it’s not a myth?”

“Cause I know it ain’t. It has to be real.”

“Kinda like your angels of Iego thing, huh?”

“No, this is real, Owen. I- I know it is.” He paused, looking down on the rooftops and streets of Mos Espa. “I can’t live here forever. I’ve got to get out. One day.”

“But everyone on Tatooine wants to come to Mos Espa!”

Anakin laughed. “Everyone on Tatooine, maybe. But there’s an entire galaxy out there that neither of us has ever seen! Planets made of ice, and water, and trees!”

“How do you know about trees?”

“That paper’s gotta come from somewhere, Owen!”

They both laughed.

Anakin began to climb down the ladder, into the city. The day had almost begun.

“You keep your small life in a big city,” he said. “Give me a big life ... in a small town.”


	2. Carrying the Banner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing this crossover fic between Star Wars (Clone Wars/Prequel era) and Newsies (broadway version). Anakin (Jack Kelly) and Owen Lars (Crutchie) join the clones - Rex, Cody, Fives, Echo, etc. - in the streets of Mos Espa to begin their day of work as newsies for the Tatooine World. Anakin meets a pretty brunette (Padmé) and two newcomers, Obi Wan (Davey) and Ahsoka (Les).

Before Anakin’s feet hit the dusty ground of Mos Espa, he could hear the other newsies arguing.

“Hey, that’s my cigar!” Cody yelled.

“You’ll steal another.” Rex said, twirling it in his fingers.

“Hey, look, it’s bath time at the zoo!” Fives pointed to a clean-shaven Echo.

“I thought that I’d surprise my mother!” He said, proudly. The clones all stared at one another in a mixture of laughter and sadness. They had no mother.

“If you can find her...” Rex broke the silence.

“WHO ASKED YOU?!” They all yelled back in response.

And then the morning celebration began. The crew of newsies began to make their way from rooftop abodes to the gates of the Tatooine World. It didn’t take long for Anakin to catch up to them and join in:

“It’s a crooked game we’re playin’, one we’ll never lose! Long as suckers don’t mind payin’ just to get bad news!”

The clones turned around, their eyes lit with the hope and excitement of a new day. Perhaps it would be the day, the day all newsies hope for, the day they would sell enough papers to make it out of the black hole of poverty. The day this life would end and a new one begin. The day that never came.

Still, there was no sense in crying about it. So they sang in unison:

“Ain’t it a fine life! Carrying the banner through it all!”

Soon Owen caught up and the band of brothers was a sight to behold. Rex gave Anakin a bold, lengthy hug. Fives and Tup smiled as they roughhoused. A girl crossed Echo’s path, and he took full advantage of it.

“Well, mornin’, miss,” he smiled big, rubbing his closely-shaven head.

“Morning,” she said, politely.

It took Anakin a moment to notice her. She was wearing a long skirt and a headdress that lifted her dark hair into the sky, which he thought looked funny. This girl definitely wasn’t from Tatooine. As he inched near her he saw that she wasn’t some young girl, either; she was a woman, older than him, and carrying a notebook and a fancy pen. Much too mature for Echo, he thought.

But not for him.

“Whoa, whoa, step aside, Romeo.” He easily shoved Echo back with one arm and leaned against the wood post of a vendor’s stall. “Can I interest you in today’s newspaper, miss...?” He let his words trail off at the end, so as to prompt her to fill in her name.

She didn’t take the hint. Instead, she quipped, “You don’t appear to have any copies, but I have a headline for you: 'Obvious Flirt Fails Miserably.’”

The other newsies must have overheard, because he heard a large wave of laughter from behind him. So, she’ll take a little more effort than that, he thought. No problem. I like effort.

It was a good mentality to have, because today was 105 degrees without a cloud in the sky. The newsies were practically soaked in sweat by the time they arrived at the gates, only to see the lousy headline: ‘Plans Discovered for New Separatist Droid Foundry.’

A groan spread through the crew. “More war news?” Cody lamented.

“Man, nobody cares anymore.”

“When’s it gonna end?”

But their complaints were interrupted by the arrival of Cad Bane and Hondo Ohnaka, who unlocked the gates for the newsies - but not without a plethora of insults. The contention grew, and before Anakin noticed what was going on, Owen had been knocked down. Anger swelled inside of him, and he didn’t hesitate to defend his half-brother. He grabbed Owen’s crutch and with it knocked the two scoundrels to the ground in one fell swoop. The clones beside him cheered as he helped Owen onto his feet. Owen smiled weakly, definitely in pain.

“50 papes, Watto, and make ‘em crisp.” Anakin handed over his credits.

But the kid behind him in line clearly wasn’t as experienced as he was. He looked like a man, with a neatly-trimmed ginger beard and fresh-pressed, cream-colored robes - but Anakin knew that only boys were newsies. Trailing him was a young togruta girl - a rare alien species to be found on Tatooine. He knew these kids were newcomers.

“Hey,” Anakin caught their attention. “You wanna come sellin’ with me? I know all the ins and outs of this city.”

“Why would we do that?” Asked the snarky togruta. “We barely know you.”

“Cause I’m the best in the business, little snippy one.”

“If you’re the best in the business,” replied the man in a crisp, foreign accent, “why bother to help us?”

“Cause I don’t have a little togruta. She could pass for thirteen, which’ll earn sympathy points from everyone here but the bounty hunters.” He looked down at her. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“Ahsoka.” She straightened her posture as if to say, I’m not so little.

“She’s snippy, but adorable.”

The man shrugged and explained, “I’m Obi Wan. Our ship crashed nearby and we need to make enough credits to fix it.”

“Well, assuming you don’t wanna be stuck on this hellhole forever, I can help you do that.”

Obi Wan looked skeptical. “And ... what do you want in return?”

Anakin looked up at the electric blue sky. He felt it pour into his soul, calling him. “To leave with you,” he replied. “On your ship.”

“Travel with this guy?” Ahsoka protested. “No thank you.”

“Look, Snips, I can get you off of this rock in three days - guaranteed.”

They looked at each other, then at Anakin.

He spit into his hand. Ahsoka spit into hers, then they shook.

“So uncivilized,” Obi Wan looked repulsed.

They gathered their papers and headed out into the now bustling streets of Mos Espa.


	3. The Bottom Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing this crossover fic between Star Wars (Clone Wars/Prequel era) and Newsies (broadway version). We now go to Coruscant, to the offices of the Supreme Chancellor, where a sinister figure named Palpatine is having a meeting with the staff of his many media outlets scattered across the galaxy - including the Tatooine World.

Sheev Palpatine sat in his luxurious chair behind his sprawling desk in his decadent office. He watched attentively as the gold glimmer of day faded into the darkness of night - his favorite transition. It was more entertaining than any soap opera the HoloNet would ever produce, and more fulfilling than the satisfaction one feels at the end of a long day of work.

At least, he thought it was. He’d never experienced the sensation.

Besides, it wasn’t every day he was able to watch the beauty of the shadow unfold before him as his barber gently scolded any of his loose hairs.

Oh wait.

Yes it was.

Besides being the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic, Palpatine had what his associates called “a secret side hustle.” He wasn’t sure what “side hustle” meant - it sounded entirely too Outer Rim-ish for his taste - but he supposed it perfectly described his clandestine activities.

He was the Dark Lord of the Sith - Darth Sidious.

Oh, wait, no. That was at 9:00. It was only 7:30. He had issued the “comlink me only after sunset only please” mandate to Count Dooku and General Grievous last week, so he could move his staff meeting up.

He was the owner of the Tatooine World.

And the Coruscant Register. And the Corellia Chronicle. And the HoloNet, of course. The Naboo Sun had somehow escaped him, strangely enough. It was his home planet, after all. But it did not worry him; what chance did an insignificant little paper from an insignificant little planet have against his media conglomerate?

It suddenly occurred to him - he should call it his media empire. Palpatine’s Media Empire. Ooh, how he liked the sound of that. Note to self, he thought, change the name on official media conglomerate stationary.

“Gentlemen,” he began, “we need to sell more papers. There's an answer right before your eyes, but you're just not thinking this through. Nunzio knows, when

he's cutting my hair - trim a bit here, and then trim a bit there - just a modest adjustment can fatten the bottom line...”

“We could lay off a few reporters...” Said one staff member.

“How about a few pay cuts?” Said another.

“We could lower the price of the World...”

“Bankrupting me even faster! Let me try again. Shaving is tricky: the razor

should float. Shave me too close and you may slit my throat. Its the simplest solutions that bolster the bottom line.”

“I know! We’ll raise the price for the newsies!”

“My thoughts exactly. Give me a week, and I’ll train them to be like an army that’s marching to war!” Except, he didn’t need them to actually be one. He already had a pretty significant army at his disposal. “When there's dirt on our shoes, boys, for god's sake, relax! Why throw them out? All we need is some wax. Listen well to these barbershop lessons, for they'll see you through...”

He trailed off, suddenly turning his back to his staff and glancing out of the clari-crystalline and up into the galaxy, towards the Outer Rim.

He decided he should wait to change the stationary. For if all went according to plan, he would soon be removing the Media part from the conglomerate’s new name.

Palpatine’s Empire.

The taste was too sweet for him to resist.

“The power of the press, yes - once again is mine!” He suppressed an evil cackle. “Just a few common cents, gents - that’s the bottom line!”


	4. That's Rich

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing this crossover fic between Star Wars (Clone Wars/Prequel era) and Newsies (broadway version). We come back to Tatooine, where Anakin (Jack Kelly), Ahsoka (Les), and Obi Wan (Davey) duck into Miss Satine's theater to escape the wrath of Dooku (Snyder).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Satine isn't the perfect fit for Miss Medda's character in the broadway play. I just can never resist the chance to write about her and inject some Obitine into whatever I do :)

It didn’t take Obi Wan and Ahsoka long to get the hang of selling papes. Anakin showed them his tricks - well, most of them, anyways. His best ones he kept to himself. He had a reputation to maintain, after all.

These two seemed to have natural selling abilities of their own. He wasn’t sure how they were doing it. Obi Wan would just walk up to someone on the street, do this awkward little wave of his hand, say “you want to buy this paper,” and every time - without fail - the customer would reply “I want to buy this paper.” Anakin had never seen anything like it.

And the togruta, what a firecracker! Most of the time, all it took was a pouty lip and the whole “poor little orphan” routine Anakin had taught her earlier that morning. But when that failed, she became the most intimidating child you’d ever seen - and wasn’t afraid to resort to threats.

“You’ll buy this paper, mister, or I’ll kick you halfway to Mandalore!”

And they ended up with a pretty good profit. Anakin would never admit it to their faces, but it was better than he’d had in a long time. They made an excellent team.

“Snips, you done counting your credits?” He asked her.

“75!?” She held the shiny pieces of metal in her hand. “ I am never going back to the temple!”

“The temple?” Anakin looked quizzically at Obi Wan. “What temple?”

“Um ... erm ...” He brought his hand to his chin. He supposed there was no harm in telling him. “The Jedi temple on Coruscant.”

“Jedi?!” Anakin was shocked. “You two are Jedi?”

“Did you think those were empty threats?” Ahsoka put her hands on her hips.

“And how did you think I was selling those papers? Magic?” Obi Wan folded his arms.

“To me, whatever you Jedi do is magic. I don’t understand it.”

“But you could, Anakin. You-”

Before Obi Wan could finish, a sinister figure appeared in the corner of Anakin’s eye. Not now. Not here. Please.

“RUN!” He yelled, grabbing Ahsoka and Obi Wan. He lead them down alleyways and through buildings, weaving and spinning and jumping and climbing. The two Jedi did not struggle to keep up with him, even though they didn’t understand why they were running in the first place.

It was Dooku, the man responsible for so much pain and suffering across the planet. He ran a behind-the-scenes child slavery empire in Mos Espa, Mos Eisley, and throughout Tatooine. Anakin and his mother had been prey to Dooku’s treachery for all of Anakin’s childhood, until he was able to sneak out and break free when he was nine. She’d told him to run, so he did. She didn’t have time to hug him or even say a proper goodbye. She’d prepared him for this day, assured him he would never regret running. But he did. Every waking hour was plagued by the gnawing sensation of regret. He’d left her behind. What a scoundrel he was.

Most of the newsies never knew their parents. Anakin was lucky enough to have known his mother for nine years. It was enough for him to vividly remember her warm, brown eyes - eyes he could see whenever he closed his. There was no way of knowing where she was now, but his parting promise to her never ceased to ring in his ears:

I’ll come back for you, mom. I’ll free you. I promise.

All of this raced through his mind as he ran through Mos Espa. Once he figured they’d made enough of an effort to weave around and confuse Dooku, he made a beeline to Miss Satine’s. It was in her theater-cantina where they hid and caught their breath. Anakin explained who Dooku was and how he’d been trying for ten years to capture him and take his revenge - but he left out the part about his mother.

“You there! Shoo! This is private property!” He could hear Miss Satine’s voice booming from below.

“Sorry, Miss Satine!” He yelled back with a smile.

“Anakin? Is that you? Come down from there, boy!” He and the Jedi made their way to face her. “And who do you have here?”

“These are, um ... my new friends, Obi Wan and Ahsoka.” He ran his fingers through his hair, unsure if he should introduce them as Jedi or not. Perhaps it was best to keep it a secret.

But, as luck would have it, it was Miss Satine he was talking to. And she knew everything.

“Oh, a pair of Jedi, I see.” She waltzed around them both, as if to examine them from every angle.

Or perhaps just one red-faced ginger.

“It’s been a while, Master Kenobi.”

Anakin’s jaw dropped.

“Likewise, Duchess. I see exile from Mandalore has treated you well.”

“I have to stay busy, even if my people refuse to see the merits of pacifism.” She waved a gloved hand. “And, turns out, I have a knack for the theater.”

“Well then, by all means, Duchess, please impress us with your talents. You will hear no complaint from me.”

“You are in luck, Master Jedi. I have a show in-”

“Miss Satine,” a stagehand called, “you’re on!”

“Well, now!” She ran out into the green and purple spotlights as Anakin, Obi Wan, and Ahsoka shuffled into the audience.

“I’m doing all right for myself, folks. I’m healthy, I’m wealthy, I’m wise...” She began.

“Modest as ever, I see,” remarked Obi Wan.

“I’ve got men, I’ve got money, and yet - the thing I want most,” Satine glanced in Obi Wan’s direction, “I can’t get!”

If the Jedi Master's skin was red before, now it was crimson as a Dune Sea sunburn.

But Anakin’s own hue soon turned into a blush, because he saw - in one of the upstairs boxes, resting her chin in one hand and pen poised to paper in the other - the same girl he’d met in the street that morning.


	5. I Never Planned on You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing this crossover fic between Star Wars (Clone Wars/Prequel era) and Newsies (broadway version). Anakin (Jack Kelly) spots Padmé (Katherine Pulitzer) in Miss Satine's theater and climbs up to her box to talk to her during the show.

Anakin could hardly stay in his seat once he saw her - but out of respect for Miss Satine, he somehow managed to. As soon as the show ended, he bolted backstage and almost grabbed the performer by her skirts.

“Miss Satine!” He yelled breathlessly. “Miss Satine, who’s up in box #5 tonight?”

“I have no idea, honey.” She quickly examined his face. It was all she needed to know his reason for asking. “Why don’t you go find out?”

That was all the permission he needed to run back to the audience, through the lobby, and climb the suddenly endless stairs to box #5.

There she was, her back facing her, that same ridiculous headdress reaching high in the air. He couldn’t tell if it was the lighting or the sound of his own heart beating that enhanced the experience, but all at once, she looked more beautiful than any girl he’d ever seen.

Soon she noticed him standing there, and a look of alarm appeared on her lovely face. “Um, this is a private box...” She rose her arms as if ready to attack.

“Oh, if you want, I can lock the door.” A sly smile spread across his lips. “Twice in one day! Think it’s fate?”

“I think it’s stalking.” She wasn’t charmed. “Go away, I’m working.”

He leaned in to try to see what she was writing. “Working on what?”

“Reviewing the show for the Naboo Sun.”

“Oh, Naboo, huh? I hear it’s beautiful. Lakes, mountains, waterfalls...”

A plea for them to hush resounded from a neighboring box as the show continued below.

He lowered his voice to a whisper: “Though not as beautiful as the people that come from it.”

She smothered a smile, then continued scribbling away at her pad of paper.

“The name’s Anakin Skywalker.”

“Oh, is that what it says on your rap sheet?” The smile emerged once again.

“A smart girl, huh? Beautiful, smart, independent-”

She stood up to face him. “Do you mind!?”

The hushing beside them turned into yells of “Be quiet over there!” and she sank back into her seat, the look of genuine apology on her face. He lingered beside her, finding his last unsold paper from earlier that day in his back pocket and a pencil stashed above his ear. The light highlighted her profile so perfectly, and he couldn’t resist. As he began to sketch her, he sang quietly to himself:

“I’ve got no use for moonlight, or sappy poetry. Love at first sight’s for suckers, at least it used to be. Look, girls are nice, once or twice ... ‘til I find someone new, but ... I never planned on someone like you.”

“What are you doing?” She asked rather loudly.

“Quiet down, there’s a show goin’ on!”

Her face grew red. “You are the most impossible boy ... ever!”

He started down the stairs, not wanting to distract her from her work. At least, not any more than he already had. But before he left the box, he dropped his sketch of her on the empty seat beside her.

He didn’t look back until he was down in the audience, reunited with Obi Wan and Ahsoka - but when he did, he saw her notice the discarded newspaper, pick it up, and notice it to be something more. He saw her stern I’m-working face break once again into that incandescent smile, and at that moment, he would’ve given anything to be the reason behind that smile again.


	6. The World Will Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing this crossover fic of Star Wars (Clone Wars/Prequel era) and Newsies (broadway version). The next morning, Anakin (Jack Kelly) and his fellow Newsies (Ahsoka, Obi Wan, the clones) discover that the price of newspapers has gone up. Infuriated, they begin a strike, travel to Coruscant, are thrown out of Chancellor Palpatine's office, and receive the help of reporter Padmé Amidala (Katherine).

He’d dreamt of her last night. Ivory skin, brown hair, her natural glow so completely enhanced by the warm light of the Tatooine suns. She brought him equal peace and excitement so profound, it brought him to his knees – and when he awoke to sunlight so much harsher than what he’d experienced in his dream, he was in the best of moods.

But quite a different feeling was spreading amongst the newsies.

“It’s outrageous!” Rex cried.

“Why I ought ta-” Fives said, rolling up his sleeves.

“They can’t do this to us!” Ahsoka threw up her arms. Then she saw him approaching and, dropping her voice to a whisper, said, “Skyguy, _can_ they do this to us?”

He looked up at the board. Then he looked back at Ahsoka and watched the hope drain from her face.

He had to fix this.

“Hey, Watto! What is this? You raised the price for the newsies?”

“That’s right!” The stinky toydarian responded. “Direct order from Mr. Palpatine himself! And … don’t threaten to take your business elsewhere, ‘cause all of Mos Espa’s papers have raised their prices!”

Watto laughed, and Anakin scowled.

Then he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Anakin I-” Obi Wan smoothed his hair, “I have an idea. Ahsoka and I were on Coruscant not that long ago, and there, a union of speeder drivers were able to raise their wages by going on strike.” Ahsoka’s blue eyes met Obi Wan’s, and her face lit up. “One can’t be _too_ sure, but … it just might work.”

Anakin smiled before realizing, “We’re not a union.”

“Well, all we have to do is band together,” Ahsoka piped up, and the clones all began to listen, “and _say_ we’re one!”

“That’s right, Snips.” Anakin, towering over her, smiled. “Even though we ain’t got hats or badges, we’re a union just by saying so! And the World will know!”

Drawing confidence from one another, the group began to formulate a plan to go on strike. Anakin climbed his way up to the headline board, his blood pumping rapidly. _Once I do this_ , he thought, _there’s no going back_. He scribbled an “S.” Then a “T.” _Am I sure about this?_ “R.” _What if I’m making a huge mistake?_ “I.” _Okay, here we go._ “K.” _Too late now._ “E.”

“Palpatine may own the World, but he don’t own us!” He cried out into the crowd. His words were accompanied by a wave of cheers. To him, no melody had ever sounded sweeter. They were an army ready to attack, soldiers on the brink of their biggest battle. Anakin could feel it in his bones, in his throat, in his eyes that had stung with desert sand for all of his life. He could feel his time coming – the time he would finally leave this wasteland. It was so close he could taste it.

“Hey,” Cody piped up, “How are we gonna alert Palpatine that we’re on strike?”

“That’s a good point,” Echo responded. “He’s all the way on Coruscant.”

Anakin paused for a moment. Maybe his time to leave was even closer that he’d thought.

“Well then, I guess we’re gonna have to go to Coruscant then, ain’t we?” He smiled at Obi Wan and Ahsoka.

“And how’s we gonna do that,” Fives raised both eyebrows, “seeing as how we’ve got no ship?”

“We don’t have a ship,” Anakin walked over to his new friends and, putting his arms around them, said, “but these two do. Now, it needs a little work, but … I think between all of us, we’ve got enough credits to get the job done.”

“You’re asking us to risk all of our savings on a strike that very well may get us all _jobless_?” Rex folded his arms, his jawline tensed. “Sign me up, General.”

In a moment of pure loyalty and admiration, the clones – one by one – saluted Anakin Skywalker. Looking out at his comrades – dirty, battered clothing, messy hair – and feeling Obi Wan and Ahsoka by his side, Anakin felt that there was not a thing in the galaxy that he could not accomplish.

They divided the tasks and had the Jedi’s ship repaired in the 36 hours. A crowd of considerable size had gathered near the crash site to witness what they believed to be the fastest ship repair ever recorded. What an odd thing to see – countless clones, led by a tall blonde, a ginger with a Coruscanti accent, and a Togruta who couldn’t be more than fourteen.

Before he knew it, the silver gleam of the city planet of Coruscant was before Anakin’s eyes. He’d never seen anything like it. He felt so out of place in his old, blue linen shirt; here, everyone was dressed impeccably – kind of like that girl from Naboo.

He, Obi Wan, and Ahsoka mustered up the courage to march into the Senate building and request to see Chancellor Palpatine.

They were thrown out immediately.

“That’s right!” Ahsoka yelled at closed doors, “You tell Mr. Palpatine that soon, he’ll have to request a meeting with _me_! And it’ll be a long wait list, let me tell ya!”

“Hey,” Anakin looked up to see beautiful purple skirts, just barely touching the floor. “Were you trying to see Chancellor Palpatine?”

“Yes,” Obi Wan rubbed his head and looked up to meet her eyes. “We came to alert him to a strike we organized on Tatooine against one of his papers, the World.”

“You think you can take on the most powerful man in the galaxy?” She pointed her pen towards the office doors and raised her eyebrows. “I’d be happy to write a story on you for the Naboo Sun.”

Once Anakin scrambled onto his feet, he looked her in the eyes – those same eyes he’d dreamed about – and asked, “I didn’t think girl reporters worked on the big stories.”

“Well, we do.” Her lip quivered. “Okay, this would be my first big story. It would be my ticket out of the entertainment pages. But I promise you I’m a good writer-”

“I believe you,” Ahsoka appeared against Anakin’s elbow. “Let her write it, Skyguy. If those pretty brown eyes of hers can’t convince you, I don’t know what will.”

Anakin chuckled nervously. “Fine. You really think it’s a story worth writing?”

“A group of poor ragamuffins from the Outer Rim trying to take on the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic?” She looked up at him through thick, dark eyelashes. “With a story like that, you’ll make the front page.”


	7. Watch What Happens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of this Star Wars (Clone Wars/Prequels era) and Newsies (broadway version) crossover fic - the first one written from Padmé's perspective (though not in first person). Anakin, Ahsoka, and Obi Wan have been thrown out of Chancellor Palpatine's office and are now making their way back to Tatooine to officially begin the strike. Padmé tags along as a reporter for the Naboo Sun - but she has a secret she isn't about to let Anakin in on, no matter how close they become.

It was decided. The newsies would, officially, begin their strike tomorrow – and Padmé herself would cover it. She could hardly believe her ears, though she didn’t know why – these street rats were lucky to have her to provide press coverage. The strike wouldn’t succeed without it. But she pushed this fleeting, artificial confidence she’d created aside, and found herself clutching her hands to her gaping mouth in astonishment as tears danced at the corners of her eyes.

She was covering a real story.

And it was a big one.

She followed the ginger, the Togruta, and the handsome, know-nothing, skirt-chasing, cocky little son of a … onto their freighter. They’d offered her a lift, and she’d accepted. She didn’t need the ride – she had her own sleek, silver-plated ship – but traveling with the newsies helped solidify her cover.  
She wasn’t lying, not truly. She was a reporter for the Naboo Sun.

But she wasn’t just a reporter for the Naboo Sun.

Obi Wan and Ahsoka, as they introduced themselves, settled into the cockpit of the freighter, and suddenly Padmé found herself alone with the aforementioned heroically charismatic leader of the group. She decided to take full advantage of the situation.

“So, what’s your story? Are you just selling papers to save up for art school?”

“Art school?” He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Yeah,” She pulled out the piece of paper he’d dropped in her box at Miss Satine’s theater. “You’re really good! What do you want to do with all that talent?”

“I’d rather tell you what I want to do tonight.”

He had also, apparently, decided to take full advantage of the situation.

She made a noise – she wasn’t sure what it was, but it made it clear enough that she was uncomfortable. He didn’t seem phased.

“You got a name?”

“Padmé…” She hesitated. “Naberrie.”

“What, aren’t you sure?”

“It’s…my pen name. Naberrie, that is. Padmé is my real name. It’s my name all of the time…night and day, rain or shine – that’s my name, Padmé. It probably sounds weird to you but it’s a Nubian classic. There’s a few characters named Padmé in holonovels that I’ve read…”

She realized she was rambling. She waited for him to stop her.

Instead, he said, “Keep going.”

She laughed nervously, and spread a wide smile across her face, thin lips stretching into small dimples. Maybe he just liked the sound of her voice. Maybe he was actually listening – even interested in what she had to say. It was improbable that a tall, well-built womanizer could actually like her – but it wasn’t impossible.

“Well,”she settled into a seat and pulled out her notepad. “I better get to writing.”

“I’ll leave you to it.” He began to walk towards the cockpit, but looked back. “Oh, and Padmé – write it good.”

“You heard the man,” she said to herself, once she was alone. “Write it good.”

She struggled to get the creative juices in her head flowing, but after a few minutes, it was like the floodgates in the lake country were opened. She found herself saying aloud: “Ooh, that’s good,” and “Go down that road some more.” The writing process wasn’t something alien to Padmé; she’d been a child prodigy in her English classes, and frequently used her persuasive voice in … well, in her other capacity.

She winced. She’d forgotten about it for a few glorious moments. If only she could have them back.


	8. Seize The Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of this Star Wars (prequel/Clone Wars era) x Newsies (broadway version) crossover fic. After reporter Padmé Amidala has convinced the newsies (Anakin Skywalker, Obi Wan Kenobi, Ahsoka Tano, Owen Lars, and the Clones) to let her be the top reporter on their strike against the Tatooine World (headed by Chancellor Sheev Palpatine), the group begin their efforts for change the next morning.

His night of sleep felt more like a wink, and before Anakin Skywalker knew it, he was at the gates of the Tatooine World - like always - but this time, he was heading a strike against one of the most powerful men in the galaxy.

What had he gotten himself into?

At least that pretty reporter had volunteered to be a part of it. She seemed more than up to the challenge. He wondered what had made her so tough. A rough childhood, maybe - one like his own.

"Hey, General, you ready for this?" Rex lined up right beside him, like a shadow.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

The small group was greeted by Cad Bane and Hondo Ohnaka, two of the slimiest scum in Mos Espa.

"I heard a little rumor about a strike," said Hondo.

"Is that so?" Cad narrowed his eyes beneath the brim of his black hat. "Well, I guess it was just a rumor."

"You guess wrong," said Obi Wan.

"Betrayal?" Hondo crossed his arms, then relaxed. "I'm so proud!"

The banter was interrupted by three twi'leks Anakin had never seen before. They walked straight to the counter, where Watto greeted them with a smile.

"Hey, what's this?" Anakin walked up to them. Two were green, one purple. Their skin looked dry and their faces exhausted. He could practically hear their stomachs grumbling, too. He wanted to give them all the papers in the galaxy to sell.

But he also knew that if things were ever going to get better, sacrifices would have to be made. Maybe the cantina owner would be generous and offer them some water, at least.

He had to try.

"Look, I don't know who put you up to this. I'm betting they offered you a lot of credits, or food, or somethin'. Stuff I can't offer you. But what we're tryin' to do is bigger than you, or me, or even this paper. It goes beyond Tatooine. We're not just striking for our rights - we're striking for the rights of every slave, servant, and newsie in the Outer Rim. So in the pursuit of a better galaxy, I beg you to put down your papers."

It didn't seem to work, so Anakin turned to Obi Wan, giving him a look of utter helplessness. Obi Wan seemed to get the message, because he squared his shoulders, smoothed his robes, and said, "Now is the time to seize the day. Stare down the odds and seize the day. Minute by minute, that's how you win it! We will find a way; but let us seize the day."

More encouragement seemed to be needed, so Ahsoka followed Obi Wan, shouting: "Courage cannot erase our fear, courage is when we face our fear! Tell those with power safe in their tower, we will not obey!"

The clones formed neat lines behind them, placing their hands on each others' shoulders and looking brilliantly defiant, singing in unison: "Behold the brave battalion that stands side by side, too few in number and too proud to hide. Then say to the others who did not follow through, you're still our brothers, and we will fight for you."

The twi'leks looked at each other, and then at Anakin. The green one in the middle marched up to Anakin, determined - but not angry. At least, not at him.

Suddenly, he slammed down his stack of fresh papers into the dust, and yelled, "I'm with ya!"

The other two followed suit, and joined the chorus:

"Now is the time to seize the day. Stare down the odds and seize the day. Once we've begun, if we stand as one, some day becomes somehow, and a prayer becomes a vow."

Anakin lifted a fist into the air as he sang: "And the strike starts right damn now!"

The group rejoiced in their success, singing, dancing, ripping up papers and burying them under layers of stomped Tatooine sand. Padmé brought a camera crew and a front page-ready picture was taken.

But the retaliation squad arrived, and the cheery atmosphere evaporated. Cad and Hondo had called in both Palpatine's muscle men and Dooku himself. A whirl of activity burst as Rex and Cody led the Clones in an attack; they knew if they allowed themselves to be driven out of the streets, the strike effort would never recover.

Brilliant though they were, the battalion was not able to withstand the heavily armored team of hit men - whoever they were - and Anakin found himself retreating and simultaneously trying to protect Ahsoka and Padmé. The former, as it turned out, was more than battle ready, and at one point he looked over to see her slam Cad and Hondo's heads together. Impressive, he had to admit.

In the commotion, he'd completely forgotten about Obi Wan and Owen. He saw the ginger-bearded man handily fending off what appeared to be a bounty hunter, but Owen was nowhere to be found.

Once he, Obi Wan, Ahsoka, and Padmé had reached safety on a nearby rooftop, he watched it happen. Cad Bane and Hondo, recovered from Ahsoka's attack, had tied Owen's ankles and wrists. The poor situation quickly turned worse as Dooku appeared on the scene, and all Anakin's body allowed him to do was to shout "No!" into the sky as the crisply-dressed, white-haired chunk of evil dragged his half-brother away to a life of slavery.


End file.
